If It Bleeds
by Cosmic Creativity
Summary: "If it bleeds, you can kill it." That's what Dean always told him. But until now, he didn't realize this rule didn't only apply to the monsters they hunted. Hurt!Dean Oneshot


_**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, nor the amazing characters. All rights go to their respective owners.**_

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It was supposed to be a quick in and out sort of gig. It was supposed to be a shoot 'em and leave. It was supposed to be an easy job, the kind where they gank the monster and then crash in their sucky hotel room for the rest of the night. Then they'd be back on the road early morning, yet again. But of course, they just couldn't get a break, becuase heaven forbid they ruin their perfect streak of horrible Winchester luck. It just wouldn't be natural. . .

"Sam, get down!" Sam whirled around on the spot, eyes wide as he registered the urgency in his brother's voice. There was the quick flash of silver, but he was too late. There was no way to avoid the deadly blade aimed for his chest. He caught a glimpse of the demon's malicious grin before he closed his eyes tightly, anticipating the finishing blow. But it never came. He could hear the loud thump of a body hitting the ground. He opened his eyes just in time to see Dean lunge at the demon he had effectively knocked to the ground, his own familiar blade piercing the monster's chest with scary precision. There was the usual flash of light as the demon blade's power killed it. Sam alowed himself to sigh in relief as Dean stood shakily to his feet, head bowed and looking down at the body on the ground.

"Thanks," Sam said, walking over to his brother. One second later and he would've been a goner. Dean didn't say a word, and Sam felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He placed his hand on his brother's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.

"Hey. Are you okay?" He couldn't keep the worry he was suddenly feeling out of his voice. Suddenly, without any warning, Dean's knees buckled out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. Sam hurriedly stumbled forward to catch his full weight with a grunt. He flipped him onto his back and scanned over him with wide eyes. Dean's face was tight with pain, teeth clenched and eyes scrunched closed.

Sam's eyes immediately landed on the blade sticking out of his brother's gut, buried to the hilt. Thick crimson spurted around the handle, steadily pooling under his brother's battered body and soaking through his flannel shirt.

"No. Nononono! Dean! You can _not_ die on me," he shouted as he pressed his fingers to the wound as best he could. He didn't dare take out the knife, for fear that his brother would bleed out faster. He quickly brought his shirt up over his head, wadding it up and pressing it to the bleeding stomach wound. Dean groaned as his eyes fluttered. He looked up at Sam through hooded eyes. Those two green pools were clouded and glazed, his obvious pain clearly displayed to the world through them.

"S-s'mmy... you o-kay?" Dean rasped. Sam wanted to roll his eyes. Even half-dead and bleeding out, his pig-headed big brother was still looking out for him.

"Dean, I'm fine." He couldn't help but feel guilty as he spoke the words he knew his brother needed to hear. If only he had been paying better attention. If only he had acted just a little faster. Then Dean would be fine, not dying in the middle of nowhere.

It was _wrong_. It was wrong for his brother to be helpless on the ground. He should be on his feet, carrying himself confidently like he always did. He should be wearing that oh-so-annoying cocky grin, the grin that Sam would never admit he loved. Dean was always so full of life and hope, practically glowing with it. It was so wrong seeing that life drain out of him in a seemingly endless river of scarlet.

"Dean, you're going to be okay. I promise. But I need you to stand up for me. We need to get you to a hospital. Please, Dean. Can you do it?" He swallowed past the lump in his throat as Dean nodded.

"Ok. Ok, good. I need you to hold this here, ok?" Sam gently guided his brother's trembling hands to the wadded up shirt, now sticking to his bloody skin. Dean grasped the cloth between his fingers, holding as tight as he could for Sammy's sake, hissing between his teeth at the jolt of pain it sent through him. Sam gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he slowly helped Dean to his feet, supporting most of the weight as his brother sagged against him. The way back to the Impala seemed agonizingy slow, and by the time they made it, Dean was panting heavily.

"You're doing good. You're doing good, Dean. We'll be there in no time. Just stay with me," Sam chanted quietly as they cruised down the highway, pushing well past the speed limit. Sam shifted his gaze to where Dean sat slumped in the passenger seat, leaning heavily against the door. His eyes were closed and his breathing was ragged. Blood had stopped streaming from his wound, and Sam wasn't sure whether it meant the blood had finally clotted or if he simply had no more blood to spill. He severely hoped the former.

When they reached the hospital, Sam leapt out of the car, rushing over to Dean's side. He caught him before he coud fall to the ground, scooping his frail body into his arms as gently as he could as to avoid causing him anymore unnecessary pain. He breathed a sigh of relief when Dean made no response to his actions, remaining blissfully unconscious.

"Somebody help! My brother, he needs help," he shouted at the top of his lungs as he entered through the hospital doors. He was instantly surrounded by medical staff. They took Dean from his arms, placing him in a gurney. He was immediatey carted through a pair of solid doors, away from Sam. He stared hopelessly after his brother and the hoard of doctors. His knees felt weak as he stumbled back, slumping down into a chair to wait. Because that was all he could do. He could only wait as he was forced to trust complete strangers to save his brother's life. Never before had he felt so useless and alone.

"You have to be okay."

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Sam should've known they wouldn't be staying for long. There was no force on earth that could possibly keep his brother in a hospital for longer than was absolutely necessary. They had been there for five days, and Sam had come back from a food run to find Dean wobbling out to meet him at the doors. He wore his signature shit-eating grin as he happily informed his brother he had signed himself out. Sam had been uncertain at first whether or not he should be allowing his brother to escape, but in the end they decided it was for the best. It was, after all, not the Winchester way to stay stuck in one place for long, and they were getting antsy. Though, he made sure Dean rested easy for at least another week. They made their way to Bobby's where they knew they'd be welcome for awhile, leaving the town and the fear back in their rearview mirrors.

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 _ **The ending felt a bit rushed, but I hope you still liked the story anyway! I have an idea for a companion piece to this story for anyone who wants one. Just let me know**_


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